I want to cut off all my hair
and go out walking in the cold
Carve myself a new hole
and talk just like before

I want to starve myself of blankets
and sleep here on the floor





. 

Before the dawn...

The view from windows is quite beautiful, a thin mist laying claim to all it touches, a small beam of light shining through the overlapping branches of a tree. A huge bat swoops low. And her dog decides to follow her home, running ahead , looking back every few steps to make sure she doesn't lose her way.

Sometimes she just wants to escape, from the reality her life has become. Strangely , for the pragmatist she is , dreaming comes very naturally to her.  But it will be up to her to find her poem in her reality. Tap to the music outside, n not inside.

Harmonize.



.

Random Rantings in Retrospect

Whoever said a bus stand or a railway station is the most interesting place to sit and observe life shall get one tight whack from me!!
Cos it isn't. It simply isn't.
Its just a place where you sit and wait for a bus or a train.

I am sure one could find poetic undertones to this - people waiting to get on with their journey , to go to or get away from , a story behind every face, of hope, happiness, dismay, laughter, sadness or just a plain journey.

But at 5 in the morning in the biting cold, after a hectic day/week/month at school, without a smoke or a drop of alcohol or even a decent dinner all this is far from poetic.

I can only see strange disheveled people waking up or being woken up on the platform, a store owner cleaning his store -using the same broom to mop the floor and his merchandise, strange men and women staring at me cos
1) A grumpy looking girl, alone, writing away at this place at 5 in the morning is not a very common sight.
2)They have nothing better to do.

I look around and I don't see shops with fascinating wares, I see business opportunities. I am here so i can be together or go apart,to see if I meet Jalebi again, but in my head I instinctively want to write a list of to-dos and start working on that.  That's what going back to school has done.
Split the yesterday and today. And I am not sure I welcome the change.

The Guerilla

Aim.Fire.Dodge.Roll.Ambush.Take a hit.Fall.
Rise.
Brush off the leaves, dust your clothes.
Breathe.
Shake your head.Shake off your fears.
Take control.
Take charge.

Smile.




.

Down in a rabbit hole

I heard you fell into a rabbit hole
Covered yourself up in snow
Baby, tell me, where'd you go
For days and days?
Did they make you stay up all night?
Did they paint your face that pastey white?
You're thirsty but your appetite 
Gets chased away
Sun turns us to stone
It's a cloudy day
But we still can't go home
I've been out that cellar door
Until we see the moon
We're invisible
No one ever takes the garbage out
A neighbor kid gets dared to touch the house
He runs back only to announce
"There's no one home"
Because we paint the foil with the flame
Smear the soda, taste butane
For every fear that can't be named
To calm you down
Your heart starts skipping steps
So you're farther gone
Than you might expect
If your thoughts should turn to death
Gotta stomp them out 
Like a cigarette

Nostalgia

They call it reminiscing, dregs of memory flowing away, a lump in the throat, just a vault locked away inside that you peep into once in a while midst the present whizzing past at breakneck speeds.

But at times... when gathering those moments scattered in the winds of time you realize that you always knew, even at that time, that you were only gathering memories.

Nostalgia is really made in the present.



.

And this is how you remind me....
This is how you remind me of what I really  am
This is how you remind me of what I really am